


Flavors of Gratitude

by naberiie



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, One Shot, and clones x random acts of kindness, civvies being kind, i ship clones x happiness, professional chef says thanks, pure fluff, random original characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naberiie/pseuds/naberiie
Summary: Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. - Harriet von HorneA good cook is like a sorceress who dispenses happiness. - Elsa SchiaparelliA completely self-indulgent one-shot about grateful civilians, clones being spoiled, great food, and good company.





	Flavors of Gratitude

Kix ran a hand over his short-cropped hair as he rocked back on his heels, taking a deep breath of the clean valley air. All things considered, this battle hadn’t been especially difficult, and the causalities were minimal – though the shiny grimacing on the ground before him might disagree with that point. They were lucky, this time. The clankers hadn’t had time to really sink their claws into this planet before Skywalker intercepted a transmission and decided to handle things in his usual style. Three hours later, and they were done. Scattered battledroid parts, singed and smoking, littered the ground. They hadn’t even had time to set up proper leadership – just a clanker like all the rest. Fives and Rex were leading a small group of men through their base, looking for any intel regarding more relevant sectors as the rest of Torrent took inventory from their end.

Kix glanced over his shoulder at the command post, where Skywalker was currently getting his ass handed to him by an unamused Kenobi and an even more unamused Windu. Ahsoka stood next to her Master, arms folded. She saw Kix looking and rolled her eyes, tugging on her left montral in exasperation. _Not the first time, and certainly not the last._ He stifled a laugh and turned back to the moaning trooper in front of him. “Stop whining, rookie. Could be worse.”

The trooper blanched and muttered, “Sorry, sir.” He’d gotten clipped by a stray blaster bolt in the arm – nothing serious, but it had fused his plastoid armor to the blacks underneath. The blacks were ruined, and a good three-inch diameter of skin was lightly raised and bubbling. All it really needed was a cold compress, but it was the kid’s first day of action. Kix gave him a small bacta injection – he looked a little green.

“Uh – sir?”

“What is it?” Kix asked, flipping the cap over the used needle and wrapping it in biohaz plastics.

“Someone’s coming.” The rookie pointed to the horizon, and Kix’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the horizon, his wrist comms ready to go with a single flick –

Even from this distance, Kix could clearly see that it was three civvies, a Human woman and man, and a younger girl. Kix sighed and resisted the urge to cuff the rookie on the head. “Do they look like clankers to you, kid?”

“I never said- “

“You’re all set, go get Commander Tano.” He stood and watched as the trio drew nearer. Now that they were closer, Kix could clearly see the Governor Aerah of the precinct, a chrome city nestled in between the snow-capped mountains. Skywalker and Rex had conferred with the woman as they’d approached the system. She’d been extremely grateful for the unconventional Skywalker methods, and followed his suggestions for securing her city as they had landed in the surrounding forests. The General must have sent out the all-clear to her, though it _was_ odd that she was coming to meet them.

Kix didn’t think she looked old enough to run a precinct, but then again, his view of aging was slightly skewed. She had deep copper skin and bright gold tattoos on her cheeks and forehead. Her dark hair hung in heavy braids to her waist. Delicate gold chains plaited into her hair glinted in the afternoon sun. The man walking next to her was slightly paler and portly, his cheeks bright red and a friendly smile plastered on his doughy face. He held the hand of the small girl, who could only have been his daughter. As Kix walked forward to meet them, the little girl stared at him, her dark eyes curious but cautious.

“Governor Aerah,” he said, snapping a quick salute.

She nodded at him, her large brown eyes scanning the battlefield behind him. “Looks like you made quick work of those droids. I hope there are not many injured?” Her accent was clipped, controlled, yet friendly.

“No, ma’am. It was only a small outpost. Luckily they hadn’t had much time to set up shop here yet.”

Aerah smiled at him. “A fact for which I, and my people, are very grateful. If you need any assistance, we have set aside several medical kits at the city center. Is the General nearby? I wish to speak with him about-“ Her eyes flicked over his shoulder at the sound of running footsteps. “Well now, here comes someone.”

“Governor!” Ahsoka appeared at Kix’s side, the shiny close on her heels, and bowed. “My Master is, um… a little _busy_ at the moment. I’m his Padawan, Ahsoka Tano. How can Kix and I help you?”

“Very nice to meet you two.” Aerah gestured to the man at her side. “This is Yari and his daughter, Eaila. He’s actually the one who wants to speak with you.” She shifted her weight to the opposite leg and smiled again. “He had an absolutely brilliant idea, one I hope you’ll agree to!”

Yari reddened and shook his head. “The Governor is too kind. I just wanted to say thank you for coming all this way to help our small colony. We don’t have many resources and supplies to offer the Republic – stars know we’re not the most convenient place in the galaxy – but I happen to run several restaurants in this system, and several nearby ones as well. It would be an honor to cook for you and the rest of your men, to say thanks for keeping the Separatists out of our home.”

Aerah nodded, the jewelry in her braids clinking together pleasantly in her excitement. “What Yari _means_ to say is that he’s one of the best chefs in the Outer Rim, and that it’s the least we can do for you, after all you’ve done for us.”

Kix stared. A feast? Homecooked meals were not something any of the men could even pretend to be used to –the sheer _amount_ of food that would be required for feeding men with genetically augmented stamina and appetites was the entire reason the Republic had to make do with tasteless nutrition bars. The thought of sitting down with his brothers and being fed a meal by the best chef in the system… It was opulence, luxury of the most basic sort. Something tightened in Kix’s chest as he stared at the three civvies in front of him.

“My dad’s the best cook in the whole _galaxy_!” The girl – Eaila? – couldn’t have been more than six years old, but as she peeked out at Kix from behind her father’s legs, Kix was certain her glare could have scared Count Dooku straight. Her tiny hands clenched at the thought that these strangers could possibly doubt her dad’s cooking.

Ahsoka burst out laughing and crouched, “Don’t worry, Eaila, I believe you! I think the boys and I would be more than happy to accept your dad’s offer, right, Kix?” She raised her eyebrow at the medic, who was still trying to come to terms with a feast just for them.

“Oh! Erm- right, sir!” He grinned at the young girl, who nodded firmly, as if the compliments were acceptable to her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Kix, who ran another hand through his hair under her intense six-year-old scrutiny.

Aerah shook her head. “She threw an absolute tantrum before we let her come with us. She wanted to see the battlefield and the soldiers.” She pushed the girl forward a half step, pointing to Kix. “Eaila, can you say hello? This man’s a soldier!”

Kix knelt and returned her shy hello before she darted back behind her father’s legs.

Ahsoka stood and glanced back to the command post. “Skyguy should be done in a minute or two, Governor. Should we wait here, or…?”

“I’d like to speak with him about steps I can take for the further safety of my people, but that can wait until later, at the dinner.”

Yari held up his hands, “Please, let us set aside business talk. Once you’ve finished your tasks here, come to the city. I simply wanted to get your permission before I started prepping.” He chuckled sheepishly. “If I’m quite honest, though, I may or may not have started cooking the _instant_ you arrived in the system.”

Kix decided that he really, really liked this man.

* * *

 

Yari stood on the counter in the kitchen, his kitchen staff of varying species ready in starched white shirts rolled to their elbows - or non-human equivalent thereof. Already, the hall was filled with delicious smells wafting from the massive kitchens set on raised platforms in the center of the vast hall. No matter where their guests would sit, they would have a clear view of the kitchen – as was this planet’s custom. Instead of hiding the excitement of a kitchen behind thick walls, the noise and energy were out in plain view. Dinner with provided entertainment.

His sous chef, a forest green Twi’lek woman named Noori, stood next to him. Her long lekku were wound together and tied up with black cloth, as out-of-the-way as she could hope to get them. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, eager to begin. The polished stone and wood tables creaked under their combined weight as volunteers milled about, setting up plates and bowls and utensils and all manner of drinking vessels.

He fixed the sea of cooks with a withering glare, then chortled with the absurdity of trying to be stern with them. Someone called out to knock it off, chef, and he laughed. He clapped his hands once, twice, until the chatting subsided. “Tonight is a very special night, people. We have a company of hungry soldiers on their way to us as I speak! Soldiers who answered our call of distress, and knocked the droids of the Separatist Union back to that dustball Geonosis where they belong!”

The cooks crowed with delight, laughter rippling through the crowd as their Chef pantomimed drop-kicking a droid over their heads. Noori rolled her eyes, trying to hide her smile. “We’ve all read the reports of war, we know that these boys give themselves up for us and for the Republic every day. The very least we can do is send them away with full stomachs and pleasant dreams! If there’s one thing we know how to do, it’s the pleasure of fine food and drink!”

Someone else called out something only mildly filthy, much to the squealed delight of the other cooks.

Yari winked and said, “I’ll leave _that_ pleasure to you, then!” He glanced at Noori, who nodded and took a half-step forward. Even with her gentle, lilting voice, everyone in the kitchen knew better than to ignore the sous chef. They hushed at once. “In all seriousness, everyone - give these boys nothing less than the very best. I expect the highest quality of food and service for them. Stars only know how difficult their lives are. Make this night be one for them to remember!”

Yari cupped his hands around his mouth and gave the rallying cry: “Be the best!”

“Serve the best!”

Yari stamped his foot twice again, short staccato raps that bounced off the high rafters. “Now go! To your stations!”

The cooks, servers, and volunteers all responded in one unifying cry that shook Yari to his very bones: “ _Yes Chef!”_ They surged towards the kitchen like a wave, breaking apart and shouting. At that moment, the large doors slid open and there stood their guests, led by none other than Anakin Skywalker. Behind him, the men of Torrent company shuffled anxiously, their armor buffed and hastily cleaned. None of them wore helmets, and Yari was glad to see only _some_ of them carried blasters.

Yari whistled at Noori and jerked his head towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder, saw who had just arrived, and took several purposeful strides to meet the General. Yari stepped down from the table with slightly less grace than his sous chef had done, and hurried over to meet them. _How in the stars was it possible to look even remotely graceful next to that woman?_ General Skywalker and his young Padawan stopped by the doors. Noori clasped her hands behind her back as Skywalker asked her something. Her answer made him laugh.

As he approached, Noori was gesturing them inside, bowing and smiling. “Governor Aerah will be here shortly, in the meantime, sit wherever you please.” The clone soldiers had curt nods for him and shy grins for Noori.

Ahsoka leaned against the doorjamb, her arms folded as she watched the men file in with amusement twinkling in her eyes. When she saw Yari, she straightened and gave him a small bow. “Nice to see you again, Chef! The boys are really excited – you should have seen camp once you left!” She giggled, her sharp teeth catching the light. “Nothing short of chaos. Skyguy nearly had to break up a fight over some razors, and you wouldn’t believe the amount of questions about table manners-!”

Next to them, Skywalker was introducing Noori to two ARC troopers, one of whom had a bloody blue handprint on his chest. His throat clenched – they were _so young_. He blinked and returned Ahsoka’s smile a half-second too late. “Well, we’re happy to do what we can for you. We’re very grateful, and I’m sure it won’t be the last time you hear that tonight.”

He didn’t tell her how much that made his heart hurt, that the clones didn’t have a sense of this, didn’t know how to respond to the simple act of a meal. That no one else had ever done something like this for them before. Yari took a deep breath and gestured Ahsoka inside, knowing that before the night was over he was absolutely going to cry.

The clone medic – Kix – was the last one to step into the hall. As his brothers were busy squabbling amongst themselves and trying to impress the volunteer servers as their cups were filled with water and wine, he silently surveyed the great hall. His head tipped back as he scanned the mosaics on the ceiling high above them. Noori watched him as he picked his way through the crowd, the corner of her mouth twitching, and Yari could tell she was thinking the same thing. _So bloody young._

He was just beginning to officially introduce himself to Skywalker and the imposing ARC troopers when a cook called out from behind a column of savory steam, face red from embarrassment or the heat, Yari couldn’t tell. “Marinated flanks having an issue under the broiler, Chef!” Behind them, other cooks were moving like a well-oiled machine, calling out to one another, chopping mountains of fragrant herbs and mountain vegetables. The cook’s apron was already stained a light pink. Behind him, two other cooks were crouching low, peering into the depths of an oven, pointing and arguing with each other.

Yari groaned good-naturedly and chuckled. “Duty calls, General.” He pointed to an empty table dutifully guarded by servers, slightly raised above the surrounding tables. “Governor Aerah has asked to sit next to you, your Padawan, and your Captain.”

Anakin laughed and waved a hand. “I completely understand. We really appreciate this, Chef. I know this means a lot to the men.” Next to him, Ahsoka nodded furiously. She blushed when Noori smiled at her.

“Shall we, Noori?” He held out his arm to her. “We have work to do.”

“Yes, Chef.” She took his arm and they wove through the crowds,

They were going to make this the best damn meal they’d ever had.

* * *

Rex knew he should be at least _somewhat_ paying attention to the discussion happening to his right, between Skywalker and the young Governor about defensive strategies for her city, but every time he tried to refocus something would explode, or catch on fire, or someone would volley off a series of volatile curses so creative that he was sure he would be hearing them for the next few months. Already, some of the rookies were practicing them on each other in between scarfing down the fragrant roasted red meat, or the peppery blue sautéed vegetables carved in the shape of the Republic symbol, or the mint-and-lemon salads, or any of the dozens of dishes that threatened to buckle every table in the hall.

He hadn’t known working in a kitchen could be so intense.

Around him, the hall was a cacophony, an uproar barely contained by the tall marble columns and wide windows, a mess of sound and smell and an ocean of people – half his brothers, half local civvies of all species. It seemed everyone in the city had come to the hall to dine with them. His brothers had been reserved, at first, sitting politely at their tables, thanking their servers for every fresh glass of wine, keeping their voices low, their smiles tight. Some of the younger clones had never known any other sustenance besides the dreaded ration bars – their eyes grew wider with every dish, hesitant to reach out to the food, fearful of offending. But as the servers and cooks and locals started to talk to them, to laugh and joke and ask what they thought of their planet as they showed the clones how to eat this strange little bird or how to cut the hard seeds out of a fruit, Rex had watched his brothers’ shoulders relax, watched as their smiles became genuine.

And then their hosts had started cooking, and any remaining sense of polite society was lost as the portly head chef stepped into his territory. He stepped over the threshold and transformed. The kitchen was a roiling and steaming madhouse in the center of the hall, a barely contained maze of food and people. Noori wove through the cooks, tasting dishes here and there, calling to runners to grab this spice, that herb, remove the flanks from the glowing embers – as calm as any commander in the chaotic fray. She peered over the shoulder of a Zabrak cook as he mulled over something boiling in a massive pot in front of him, sniffed once, wrinkled her nose, and shook her head.

 _Of course, the alcohol might have helped, too._ He took another sip of his own wine, pleasantly light despite its deep lilac color and overpowering fruity smell. Everything on this planet was beautiful. According to the woman who had poured him a glass, it was a vintage from Naboo. Hand-picked by reclusive mountain hermits, or something like that. Rex didn’t doubt that fact was highly appreciated by his General, but he didn’t know enough about wine to know or care where it came from. And neither did anyone else. Echo was waving off a server valiantly attempting to fill Fives’ cup again. She blushed deep scarlet as Fives drunkenly flirted behind Echo’s back, lazily waving his cup in the air, trying and failing to wink. A cook had come down to the tables and was giving an impromptu demonstration about the various types of knives to a dozen clones clustered around the table. Kix and Jesse had attracted the attention of a group of children and were now entertaining them with what Rex was sure were entirely fictitious exploits. They sat on the ground, mouths hanging open in barely-concealed awe.

Laughter echoed off the high walls as the suns began to set, framed by shimmering glass and bronze panels. The deep-rooted paranoia that kept Rex wandering around late at night had subsided just the slightest bit, placated by the smiles, the light touches on his arm, the food heaped around him. He didn’t often let himself daydream – too easy to be caught off guard  – but as he watched his brothers talking to civilians over plates of food, smiling and laughing like old friends, he couldn’t help but dream of a day when the war ended, when this was a reality for them. When they didn’t have to fight anymore.

“Hmm, I know that look.” Ahsoka plopped herself into an empty space on the bench, nearly spilling her cup. “What’re you thinking about, Rex old boy?”

He chuckled and gave her a half-smile. “How we’re never going to hear the end of complaints about our regular rations now.”

“Ha! Don’t I know it. Maybe Yari could come with us. Be a live-in chef. Wouldn’t we be the envy of the fleet?” She took a sip of her wine and rested her chin in her hand, raising an eyebrow at him. “And now, what’s _really_ bothering you?”

Rex was silent as he contemplated her question. Noori had stepped out of the kitchen now and was walking through the crowds, stopping at every table and chatting with civilians and clones alike. There was not a single stain or spot on her white uniform. Her smile was relaxed, natural and freely given.  Yari was still buried somewhere in the kitchen, but every so often his voice rose above the fray in staccato bursts for some herb or utensil or sauce. They could ignore their separate realities here. Rex desperately wished the barrage of thoughts would ease up.

“I don’t want to bring your mood down, kid.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the arm. “I would argue that _that_ statement will annoy me more than anything you have to say.” When he didn’t respond, she lowered her voice. “Rex? Come on, you’re like my best friend. What’s up?”

He sighed and relented. “We weren’t meant to enjoy stuff like this. Simple stuff, like real food. We weren’t made with that in mind.” He swirled his cup slowly, staring at the brilliant colors, letting the sounds of the banquet hall wash over him. A burst of laughter echoed somewhere to their left. “I don’t know, kid. This whole thing is wonderful. Makes me want to fight harder, and better, so this can happen again. Make me wonder… makes me wonder what’ll happen after the war is over.” He took a deep breath, surprised at the emotions roiling in his stomach. The words spilled out of him before he could stop them, “Makes me feel like we’re not just cannon fodder after all.”

“Oh, _Rex_.” Ahsoka breathed, her voice hitching. Rex glanced up at her, frowning. Her big blue eyes were shimmering with tears. “ _Rex_! You’re not… not _fodder!_ You’re people!” She sniffed, grabbing his hand. “I never thought… never considered that this would be weird for you guys… No, no – this is all for _you_. All of this. All of…” She pointed to a silver bowl overflowing with a creamy type of soup. Strange gray pieces of meat floated next to coppery chopped leaves. “All of whatever _that_ is.”

He shook his head and moved her still-full cup away from her. “Right, I think you’ve had enough.” He frowned. “Are you even old enough to be drinking this stuff?”

“ _Force_ , shut up.” Still, she gave a half-hearted laugh. “I’m just overemotional, is all.”

“Right, and maybe more than a little drunk.”

Ahsoka laughed, sniffing loudly. Her montrals were tinged light blue, her cheeks flushed. _Definitely drunk_ , Rex thought. “Maybe so. Honestly, though.” She grew serious for a moment and stared at him. “You guys give everything you have for people like them. And they know it. And… and I really think they love you for it, for all the sacrifices you make.”

They were silent, sitting together on the bench. Suddenly Ahsoka snorted, nodding towards a retreating trooper being pulled into a side room by the hand, a delirious grin plastered on his face. “I guess it was only a matter of time before something like that happened, huh?”

Rex drummed his fingers on the table and raised his glass to his lips. “I just hope they don’t think they’re being _sneaky_.”

The cook had finished the knife demonstration and was letting a shiny handle a butcher’s knife, much to the amusement of his squad. Echo had convinced the girl to not fill Fives’ cup again, but she sat across from them, charmed to the stars and giggling, her serving platter lying forgotten on the table. Kix was letting a serious young girl examine his hair, grinning despite the awkward angle at which she was tugging his head. Her small fingers traced the shaved bolts of lightning and tattoos as Jesse watched on, laughing.

Everywhere Rex looked, he saw his brothers at the center of attention, awash with kindness and high praise and adoration. The seats had long ago been abandoned. His brothers wandered freely amidst their hosts, peering into the kitchens, relaxing for this one night. A thousand conversations and jokes and stories and questions bounced around the hall.

It was a simple enough luxury, a small enough kindness. To be appreciated. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's sappy and cheesy, but sometimes I just have to give my favorite boys a small respite from the realities of canon.


End file.
